


right there

by minhoscallousedhands



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon - Movie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhoscallousedhands/pseuds/minhoscallousedhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>thomas isn't the only one who made a promise to minho. newt did too, and vice versa. if their memory serves them right, they've always been good at keeping their promises. but teresa was right: everything is gonna change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	right there

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve been slacking on 12 days of minewt and this is my contribution to day 2: hope. or lack thereof. this is my way to cope with the lack of minewt in the movie. less wordy compared to my usual writing, just cause the visuals are well taken care of by the movie.

After Thomas left the room with the bald man, Minho got off the treadmill to see Newt, still sitting where he just had his shot of nutrients. 

“Where do you think they’re taking him?” the younger boy asked, his face full of spite. He couldn’t help but wonder, of course, he couldn’t trust anyone–especially now.

“No idea.” he suddenly shifted his focus on his fellow glader. The blond never looked so out of it; he kept fixing his stare on his arm where the needle poked into his vein.

“Hey.” Minho’s fingertips slid over Newt’s said arm gently, “What’d they do to you?”

“’S just some vitamins, they said.”

For as long as Minho had known Newt, he had never looked so worried. The older boy was never the type who worries, really; he’s the one who’s been keeping his hot temper from toppling, the one who’s been keeping him calm in the unknown world they were thrown into. And it breaks his heart a little to see him like that. The bloodbath they call an attempt to escape from the Glade might start taking its toll on Newt.

“What’s up?” he found a chair to sit next to the table full of syringes. _What a bunch of klunk. These aren’t just vitamins,_ he thought _._

“I have so many questions, Min. But no one has the answer. Even you.”

“I don’t always have answers.” the younger boy smiled bitterly, images of the maze and its map crowding his brain. It started dawning on him that out here, he’s no longer the Keeper of the Runners. _It doesn’t mean a shuck thing now._ None of their jobs in the Glade matters anymore. It’s a world they know they used to know, but no longer recognize. The thought frightened him, his eyes had started losing focus when the blond snap him out of it.

“You don’t now, do you?”

“Newt.” his hand reaches over the taller shoulders out of habit, rubbing his thumb in circles to ease the apparent tension. “Hey, we’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t trust them.”

“Neither do I. But nothing seems to be happening right now, it can’t hurt to relax just for one night.”

Newt bit his lower lip, falling his gaze to the floor, finding a rebuttal worthy of his energy. None. The showers did feel amazing, those beds looked really comfortable, and the food–the food was delicious. He realized he had never thought of the word comfort before, like it’s some foreign concept he only knows about but never had the chance to experience.

“You’re probably right.”

“Good that.”

A smile that didn’t quite fit the post-apocalyptic world spread across Minho’s face, a smile Newt would never trade for anything in this world, a smile that’s more than enough to calm him down. He went on about how delicious the food were and that he was planning to eat some more because the treadmill jog was making him hungry. When the younger boy got off his chair to leave for more food, he caught his wrist in his hand, gripping it tight.

“Minho?” he looked up. It’s one of those times when Newt wishes that Minho would be the taller one instead of him. One of those times when Newt gets tired of being the strong one between the two of them. One of those times when Newt _needs_ Minho. “Don’t ever leave me.”

“Newt, I’m just getting food.” he chuckled and the smile got wider.

 _If only you can be so shucking happy all the time, just like this. I’d do anything,_ Newt thought.“I don’t care what happens. Don’t ever leave.”

Minho’s face retreated to serious, hands now clutching on Newt’s shoulders.

“Never. **I’m always gonna stay**.”

* * *

Minho and Newt didn’t expect to get out of Jorge’s lair easily, but they didn’t expect the swarm of Cranks they needed to fight off on their way to find Marcus. They had no idea there would be that many. Didn’t expect to make it safe to Marcus’ either, but here they were. Battered and bruised, but alive.

“Did you get stung? Bitten? Whatever the shuck they call it?” Minho asked as they scoured Marcus’ place for Thomas, muttering something like _this shucking greenie, where the shuck are you, I’m sick of this klunk._

Newt was leading the search in front of him, snorting at his friend’s grumbling. “Nah. Relax, Minho.”

“I’m serious, Newt.”

“I hear you mumble.” Newt could’ve easily burst into laughter had it not been for Minho’s hardened face. “We’re gonna find Thomas, don’t worry.”

“It’s not that shank that I’m worried about; he killed a Griever, remember? I’m just tired. It’s-it’s you. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Min.” he tried a smile. Still not good enough for Minho.

“Were you with me the entire time?” the black haired boy raised his voice. “Did you count how many of those Cranks getting to you? No, right? There were so many of them. I need you to be sure you’re not stung. Bitten. Whatever the shuck you call it.”

“Promise I’ll check on the cuts I have later, yeah?”

“Hm.” he seemed expectedly dissatisfied with Newt’s answer.

“Minho.. We gotta find Thomas first.”

“Any changes. Even the slightest headache. Tell me as soon as possible. Tell me-”

“Min, **I’m never gonna change**.” the older boy cut him off, finding his fingers between Minho’s, thumb swiping over his hand to signify assurance.

“Promise me that.”

“Yeah. Promise.”

_It shouldn’t be that hard to keep, right?_

* * *

Ever experienced anything so fast that it’s both vivid and hazy at the same time? That’s how Minho experienced WCKD’s attack at the Right Arm’s outpost. Even then, he kept his promise, keeping a close distance with Newt the entire time, even until they were lined up with their knees to the ground.

“All that bloody trouble and we end up here, probably going back to their shucking headquarter.” Newt grunted as a guard shook him loose after scanning the back of his neck.

“There has to be a way out, we’ll figure it out.” Minho whispered. “If not, I’m still here. We’re going through this together.”

“Yeah, hm.”

The blond made a sharp hiss and Minho snapped his head towards him instinctively. “Newt? You okay?” He asked, eyes meeting with a familiar sight of Newt wincing at something that looks a lot like pain. He recognized it from that night back in the Glade, when he carried him to the Homestead after Newt tried to kill himself. Only that this time, Newt was in one whole piece with no broken leg sending waves of discomfort. He seemed fine apart from the look on his face.

“Yeah, just a little headache.”

“What? How long have you been having it?”

“Just when we got here.”

Thoughts of dr. Cooper explaining how the Flare develops in humans earlier immediately crowded Minho’s brain. No, no, no. Out of everyone in this bunch, it’s Newt? He wouldn’t be able to deal with seeing him turn into a Crank.  

“Newt, are you-” He had to make sure, but damn it, the timing couldn’t have been worse.

The older boy cut him off, “We’ll worry about it later, yeah? I’m feeling fine. The Launcher was probably to blame.”

“Newt. You said you’ve been having it since-”

“I don’t know, alright? We can worry about it on the Berg, or, wherever we’ll be next.”

Minho was ready to fire another argument when he looked at Newt’s neck as he tore his amber eyes away from him. He could’ve sworn he saw an unusually large vein sticking out on Newt’s neck. A vein that looks a lot like Ben’s. Suddenly all his talk about going through this together with Newt seemed distant, impossible. Suddenly, **all hopes he had for himself just disappeared** into thin air.

And it silenced him, like his vocal cords had been cut loose.

_God damn it, Newt.._

* * *

_Minho, you bloody idiot. When you run out of bullet, you run. Don’t even bother with the shucking gun._

Minho got taken.

Newt wasn’t sure if it was more painful to see him go from standing up strong to jolting down on the ground, or to see his limp body dragged by the guards. He didn’t have electric currents messing up with his body then, but he sure was paralyzed by his headache. He was only able to hear Thomas screaming Minho’s name, watch him running forward, arms flailing, all to no avail. Tears started welling up in his eyes, but something else was causing a physical pain in his head. Something was eating his brain from the inside, hurting every corner of his skull.

Hyperventilating, he tried to tell Jorge to let Thomas go after Minho, only to managed a weak “Get.. Min..” amongst the loud bang of weapons and clattering of the Berg’s machine. No one heard him of course, and they were walking in a different direction after Jorge said something about them not standing a chance, retreating away from Minho.

Newt’s eyes were still glued to Minho as he limped backwards, watching the light in the granite irises went dim. His heart sank, and unknown to him, Minho was looking at his amber eyes too, both of them trying to say the same thing.

**“I’m sorry, I know I said I promise..”**


End file.
